


No one mourns the wicked

by Shamelessly_Radiant



Category: Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 07:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamelessly_Radiant/pseuds/Shamelessly_Radiant
Summary: A look at what passes through the head of Glinda, the Animals and the Ozians as they celebrate the death of the Wicked Witch of the West. (A drabble)





	No one mourns the wicked

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me and I couldn't not.

_Good news! She’s dead. The Witch of the West is dead!_

The people chant, cheer, cry, and do not realise they are the truly wicked, for celebrating the dead of another human being.

Though she supposes that from the moment Elphaba was called a witch, she was no longer a human.

_The wickedest witch there ever was, the enemy of all us here in Oz, is dead. Good news!_

The Animals cry, silently, hidden in the lairs she made for them, the nests she disguised for them, the resistance posts she created, the last few places where they could be in peace and without fear. The Animals ask themselves when ‘good news’ will finally be actually good news again.

_No one mourns the wicked. No one cries they won’t return. No one lays a lily on their graves._

Glinda travells, carefully, stealthily and not by bubble to Kiami Ko. She smiles at the monkeys, makes a note to research how to undo what has been done, and bows her head.

She does not lay lilies on Elphaba’s grave, because Elphaba hated lilies, and because there is no grave to speak of. She lays one of the carefully dried poppies she found in the Grimmerie on the place they said goodbye.

When she leaves, the wind dries the tears on her face. She breathes in, she breathes out.

She mourns.

_The good man scorns the Wicked!_ _Through their lives, our children learn, what we miss when we misbehave_ _._

Glinda promises herself: the next generation will be a generation of Elphaba’s and Fiyero’s. The next children will be taught by Goats, Owls and people of all colour. The next generation will know better.

 _And Goodness knows_ _the Wicked's lives are lonely, Goodness knows, the Wicked die alone_ _._ _It just shows, when you're wicked, you're left only on your own..._

_Yes, Goodness knows the Wicked's lives are lonely. Goodness knows the Wicked cry alone. Nothing grows for the wicked, they reap only what they've sown._

Everyone she knows is dead or gone. Glinda has no one left but herself. She supposes she deserves nothing less.  
  
_So you see - it couldn't have been easy!_

_No one mourns the Wicked! Now at last, she's dead and gone! Now at last, there's joy throughout the land._ _And Goodness knows, we know what Goodness is_ _, Goodness knows, the Wicked die alone._

Desperately, she tells Elphaba’s story, tries to let the people see, not everything is as black and white as they believe it to be. But they are too concerned with being heard to listen, which is just as well, because Glinda doesn’t really have anything of worth to say.  
  
_She died alone._

She died alone. Glinda’s heart breaks, trying to think of ways she could have saved her friend. Trying to imagine having been brave, and having stayed right by her side.  
  
_Woe to those (woe to those), who spurn what Goodnesses they are shown_ _. No one mourns the Wicked.  
Good news!_

Desperately, Glinda tries to appear happy. Desperately Glinda tries to pretend this is good news. Desperately, she tries to keep her promises. Desperately, she tries to shake off the choking sensation that creeps over her—

She does not know if it is the dress, the bubble, or the Ozians so extremely happy to see her. _  
_  
_No one mourns the Wicked! Wicked! Wicked!_

The Animals mourn.

Glinda mourns.

And somewhere a green girl and a scarecrow mourn too, lamenting all that was lost.


End file.
